


A Perfect Storm

by ChaneenW



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e15 Arcadia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaneenW/pseuds/ChaneenW
Summary: Inspired by their undercover assignment as a married couple, Mulder tries to find out what Scully wants in a husband.





	A Perfect Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, CaroBertaud. :)

“We’re still married, you know.”

Startled, Scully glanced sideways at the passenger side of the van. They were just arriving at the San Diego airport, and she was more than happy to escape from the Falls of Arcadia and their silly undercover assignment. Rolling her eyes in lieu of a response, she swung into the rental car parking garage and pulled the minivan into the nearest spot.

Mulder pointed at his hand and continued with a grin, “We’re still wearing our rings, Scully. Thus, married.”

Snorting, she replied, “What, are we in kindergarten? I hate to break it to you, but that rule only applies to playground weddings.”

“With that attitude, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re divorced by afternoon recess,” he said mildly.

“Besides,” she said, pointedly ignoring his last comment, “your entire suitcase is full of ridiculous-looking sweater vests. Does that mean you’re actually a suburban househusband?”

“God, no,” he laughed. “I think we both agree that whenever we get married, it’s not going to look like _that_.”

“Whenever we get married?” she echoed. “And here I thought we already were, according to you.” Her tone remained sardonic, but as she stepped out of the van to retrieve the luggage she found herself mentally berating the butterflies in her stomach for waking up.

“Relax, Scully, I didn’t mean ‘we’ as in you and me,” Mulder answered with his voice full of amusement, walking around back to join her. “I was assuming you’ll probably want to get married at some point. And I know it might come as a shock to you, but I just might find somebody willing to put up with me too.”

Focusing her attention on the back hatch, she exhaled slowly, letting out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding until her lungs were deflated. She fumbled around for the release but after a few moments, she gave up in frustration and muttered, “That might prove more elusive than those aliens you’re always searching for.”

“That hurts,” he said dryly, reaching past her to easily pop the hatch in a single movement. After grabbing their bags, he turned and regarded her seriously. “Have you ever thought about what you’d want your marriage to look like?”

“Not really,” she responded truthfully.

But as they made their way through the terminal, she found herself trying to picture it: sitting at home in the evening, sharing a bottle of wine while typing up case notes; making breakfast together on weekend mornings while they debated whether the Higgs boson existed; running together on the Mall, even though his legs were much longer and he’d have to adjust his pace to—

She snapped out of her reverie once she realized she was doing and felt her face grow warm. Shrinking back, she pretended to adjust her shoulder bag so Mulder wouldn’t see her flushed appearance. But of course, he noticed everything he wasn’t supposed to.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “thinking about marital bliss with the world’s most perfect man?”

She swatted him away irritably. “Not even close.”

“What _would_ your perfect husband look like?” he asked conversationally. “What qualities would you want him to have?”

“I’m not looking for perfection,” she answered swiftly. “Not in a neighborhood and not with a husband.”

“Not in a house, not with a mouse, not in a box, not with a…fox?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she laughed despite herself.

 “Very funny, Sam-I-am. I didn’t realize we’d returned to kindergarten. Which reminds me…” She took off her ring and held her hand out until he dutifully passed his over to her with a comical sigh.

“So… What qualities do you want in an _imperfect_ man, then?” he asked.

“Drop it, Mulder,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “We’re boarding.”

Once they were seated on the plane, a flight attendant came over to do final checks and paused in front of them with a friendly smile. “And how are you two doing this morning? Returning home from a beach vacation?”

Scully was used to people mistaking them for a couple, so she couldn’t fault the flight attendant, even without the wedding rings. Since they were no longer undercover, though, there was no need to keep up the charade.

She opened her mouth to correct the woman, but Mulder smiled as he reached for Scully’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. “It was more of a working vacation, but me and the missus managed to squeeze in some fun as well,” he said.

Scully stiffened, hating this every bit as much as she had back in that Arcadian hellhole. She could handle his teasing, but she wanted him to tease _her_ , not Laura Petrie or anybody else.

“You two lovebirds have a good trip home,” the flight attendant said approvingly.

“Thank you, we will,” Mulder responded, running his thumb gently along Scully’s palm. It sent involuntary shivers down her spine, making her resent the whole situation even more. The moment the flight attendant was out of sight, she extracted her hand from his.

“Someone who’s genuine,” she grumbled.

Mulder raised his eyebrows in question.

She shrugged. “You asked what qualities I’m looking for in a man. Everything he does, I want him to mean it. I don’t want for us to have to pretend.” Watching his eyes widen, Scully gave him a knowing grin. “Mystery Man and I will be completely real with each other,” she concluded.

Mulder sat back in his seat, shaking his head with a smile. “Okay, someone you don’t need to fake it with,” he said with a nod. “Got it. What else?”

“Are you taking notes?”  

“Should I?”

“It’s not necessary,” she said truthfully.

“All right, then shoot.”

She bit her lip, not knowing where to start. How had they even gotten on the topic of discussing what she wanted in the perfect man, anyway? She mentally kicked herself for bringing it up again. Was it too late to change the subject to aliens and tractor beams?

“Tall, dark, and handsome?” Mulder prompted, breaking into her thoughts.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve always been partial to shorter guys,” she joked.

“Are you sure about that? If so, I’m gonna call Frohike and tell him the good news,” he replied, reaching for his phone.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I’m bringing up his number,” he said gleefully.

“Your phone is off,” she pointed out, laughing. “But yes, okay, tall guys are fine.”

“Go on,” he said, his tone smug.

“Um, interesting, kind, funny, intelligent…”

Mulder sighed with exaggerated impatience. “Yeah, yeah, Scully, nobody wants a boring asshole. But if you could conjure a guy, here and now, what would you want in front of you?”

He gazed at her expectantly for so long she felt her pulse quicken. _Piercing green eyes_. _Check._

“Persistence,” she said instead before realizing it was also a bit too descriptive.

“Persistence,” he repeated doubtfully. “Sounds like a euphemism for ‘stubborn’ or ‘pigheaded.’ We _are_ talking about the perfect man here, right?”

“It’s a good thing,” she assured him.

“Mom, I really want you to meet my new boyfriend,” Mulder said in a falsetto voice. “You’ll absolutely love him. He’s so interesting. So kind. So _persistent_.”

“I do not sound like that. At all.”

Before he could further argue, the flight attendant came by, asking if they wanted refreshments. Mulder ordered a Coke for himself and a diet ginger ale for Scully without bothering to ask because she always ordered the same thing on flights. Always.

“Spontaneous,” Scully said after she took a sip.

He hummed in approval. “Spontaneous like he doesn’t think before he speaks or spontaneous like he hears about something and immediately wants to do it?”

She made a face and teased, “I don’t know. Did he find out about this ‘something’ from a tabloid or by talking to his conspiracy-obsessed friends?”

From the expression on his face, it was clear that she’d veered a bit too far from the theoretical.

Backpedaling madly, she added, “That was just one example, of course. I like any kind of spontaneity, even climbing the Andes Mountains or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed.

But he didn’t say anything else, not even a sarcastic one-liner, and she knew she’d messed up. It was one thing to joke around when they both knew it didn’t mean anything, but now she had crossed the line. She was mortified, wishing she could run away, but of course there was nowhere to hide on a 747, and they were mostly silent for the rest of the flight.

They didn’t say much while landing at Dulles International Airport, grabbing their bags, or getting onto the expressway, either. She glanced over at Mulder; he was driving, staring straight ahead and cracking sunflower seeds, a sure sign that he was deep in thought. Was he uncomfortable? Embarrassed to find out how she felt about him and trying to figure out a kind way to let her down? In any case, she had to break this awkwardness.

Promising herself that if he didn’t describe her she’d somehow find a way to be content with their meaningless banter, she took a deep breath and asked, “What about you, Mulder? What do you want in a woman?” Her heart was hammering so loudly she imagined it ricocheting off the walls of the car.

“Oh, I haven’t given that much thought,” he responded carelessly.

“You haven’t?” she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Then again, if his version of the perfect woman was tall, dark, and two-faced she was probably better off not knowing.

“I don’t need a list; I already know perfection when I see it.”

“And what does perfection look like?”

He paused for a few seconds and then answered, “it’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Oh my God, Mulder,” she said with a laugh, already feeling some of her tension dissipate.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a smile. “But maybe that’s my whole problem—getting my hypothetical love interest to understand how I see her.”

“How would you do that?” she asked, breathless with anticipation.

“Normally, I’d woo her with witty, self-deprecating jokes while finding excuses to get close to her. But let’s say this doesn’t seem to be working out so well.”

“Joking around is your big romantic gesture? I can’t imagine why any woman wouldn’t understand your intentions. Maybe next time you should try something more obvious like pushing her to the ground or pulling her hair,” she suggested dryly.  

“I did think of that, Scully, but she doesn’t seem to like my kindergarten antics much, either—hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, feeling a delicious warmth spread through her.

“So instead, I’ve been planning the first date,” he continued. “A perfect first date to let her know how I feel. I was thinking I would take her to a park, preferably on a lake. I’d spread a blanket on the ground and we’d have red wine and whatever romantic people eat on picnics…”

“Maybe cheese and charcuterie,” she supplied.

“Charcuterie, sure,” he agreed, “and we’d spend the evening together, watching the sunset.”

She shivered; it sounded perfect.

“And then I’d take her by the hand, look into her eyes, and—“

“Take this exit,” she interrupted him, spying a gas station ahead.

“What? Why?” he asked, surprised. As he pulled into the station, he told her, “I don’t need gas; we’ve got a full tank.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” she replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

They walked into the station’s minimart and Scully walked straight to the snack aisle.

“What are you doing? We can stop for dinner if you’re hungry.”

“You know the saying ‘show, don’t tell’?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said, still mystified.

“We’re going to have this picnic of yours.” She tossed a package of crackers at him.

His face lit up. “Now, who’s the spontaneous one?” he asked appraisingly as he darted down another aisle.

“Charcuterie board,” said Scully triumphantly a few minutes later, showing off a plastic platter she’d found on the Christmas clearance shelf.

“Good, because I found the charcuterie,” Mulder announced, holding up an assortment of beef sticks and turkey jerky in his fist.

Giggling like children, they darted through the store, picking out cheddar cheese, a bag of slightly brown apple slices, boxed wine, and plastic cups.

“Where are we going to have the picnic?” Scully wondered once they got back into the car.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find a park somewhere out here in rural Virginia,” Mulder said confidently.

She balanced the grocery bags on her lap, her mind swirling in anticipation, and she glanced over at Mulder who turned to meet her eyes. This time, she let the butterflies do their thing.

After several minutes, Mulder swung into a gravel parking lot. “We’re here,” he proclaimed, grabbing the grocery bags and getting out of the car.

Scully followed him after getting an emergency blanket from the trunk. They approached the entrance, closed off by a chain linked fence with a padlocked gate, and she said uncertainly, “I don’t know, Mulder, this might be private property. Look, there’s a sign.”

“’Closed for winter,’” he read and shrugged. “That means it’s open to the public during some part of the year, right?” He handed the bags to her and began to climb the fence.

“This is trespassing,” she hissed, looking around.

He grinned down at her. “Oh, come on, after all of those damn CC&Rs, aren’t you dying to break just one tiny rule?”

A small thrill ran through her at the thought, but she managed to remain stern. “There’s probably a reason why it’s closed for winter,” she called up to him. “It can’t be more than fifty degrees out here.”

“There are leaves on the trees, and it’s almost March. That means spring in my book,” he replied, swinging one leg over the side. “Pass the bags up to me.”

“These are evergreen trees, not deciduous ones,” she contended. “They don’t lose their leaves.”

“Are you always this argumentative on a first date? By the way, Scully, that was a rhetorical question.” He dropped the box of wine over the side and watched it land with a soft thud. “Good thing nothing’s glass,” he observed.

“Or carbonated, for that matter,” she said, starting to climb up the fence. The chains dug into her hands and she ripped her shirt on the way down, but he’d called it a first date so she was still smiling when she caught up to him.

“Look at that, Scully,” Mulder said, pleased. “There’s a lake and a playground.”

She followed his gaze and observed a dilapidated wooden swing near the bank of a tiny pond. Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she said, “I should have added ‘unfailingly optimistic’ to the list of qualities.”

“Much better than persistent.”

“Without persistence, we wouldn’t even be here today.”

He looked down and put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder in acknowledgement.

After a few moments, she reluctantly broke away and said, “We should set up if we’re going to do this. Those are storm clouds rolling in.”

Mulder unfolded the musty-smelling blanket and spread it on the ground, and Scully arranged cheese slices and Slim Jim sticks on the plastic tray as artfully as she could. As soon as they sat on the blanket, she could feel the dampness of the ground immediately seep through.

“A toast,” he proposed, handing her a cup of wine. “To picnics in the park.”

“To winter picnics,” she agreed, smiling at him over the rim of the cup.

As if on cue, the first raindrops began to fall. They pulled the edges of the blanket up around them as a make-shift shelter.

“In all fairness,” he said, huddling closer to her for warmth, “when I was making this plan, I meant to save it for summer.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You were really going to wait until summer?”

He found her hand under the blanket and squeezed it. “I’ve been waiting six years,” he said simply. “A few more months would have been nothing.”

When she looked up at him, she could see her love for him reflected back to her and she understood what he had meant earlier. She tipped her head up to him and he met her lips. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the kiss, their mouths searching for each other, his hands tangled in her hair.

Thunder rumbled above them and the rain fell harder. She broke away when a raindrop splattered directly onto her nose and they grinned at each other ruefully.

“This is a disaster,” Mulder admitted. “Come on, Scully, let’s get out of here.”

He started to move, but she pulled him back, wanting just a few more seconds. “This is perfect,” she said softly. The beef jerky, the cheap wine, the rickety swing, the falling rain, the man gazing at her with adoration—all of it was her idea of perfection.

Another crack of thunder shook the ground as lightning ignited the sky.

“Okay, _now_ we need to leave,” he said.

As the sky opened and a true downpour began, they quickly packed everything up and shimmied back over the gate. By the time they reached the car, they were completely drenched and laughing.

“I promise our second date will be indoors,” Mulder said, turning the windshield wipers on high. “That is, if you still want a second date after this,” he joked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m really starting to appreciate outdoor dates,” she replied as she held her hands over the vents.

“I’m holding you to that, Scully, but I’ll try to find a better kind of park. And we can skip the rain, too.”

“It’s a date,” she agreed, grinning at him as he leaned over to sweep a damp trestle of hair away from her forehead. “Now let’s go home.”


End file.
